


Stepping Stones

by Duckgomery



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulimia, Eating Disorder, Gen, Humanstuck, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckgomery/pseuds/Duckgomery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'He no longer wanted to be the token fat kid.<br/>He didn’t want to be the whale or Moby Dick.<br/>Nor Lardo, Fatty-Boomba, or Dough-boy.<br/>He wanted to be Eridan Ampora.<br/>He wanted to be thin.'</p><p>Eridan's struggle with his weight and eventual decline. <br/>Crappy summary is crappy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stepping Stones

Eridan Ampora was seven when he noticed his shirt was too tight. Not the tight that came with growing, as boys his age rapidly did. It was the tight that clung to him and refused to budge. He struggled to pull the shirt down over his pudgy belly. It was his favourite that he had picked out at the aquarium a few months prior.  No matter how hard he pulled, the material only gave slightly, barely meeting the line of his shorts. Happy enough with his outfit, he left the room, head held high. He padded down the hallway in sock clad feet.

Eridan pulled himself up on the high stool of the breakfast bar, next to his older brother.

Cronus looked up long enough from his cereal to take in his baby brother’s appearance. He snorts before returning his spoon to the pearly depths of the bowl.

“You aren’t going to school looking like that are you? You look ridiculous.”

Eridan looks over with confused, wide eyes, pausing as reaches over to pull the jam closer to him. Their maid, a Mrs Mosby, places a plate of toast in front of the young boy.

“What’s wrong with it?” His mouth now sticky with the strawberry preserve, his favourite. Mrs Mosby reaches over and wipes his face with a napkin. Cronus steadily munches on the remains of his breakfast, before lifting the bowl and slurping down the milk remaining.

“It’s way too small, Eri. You go around looking like that and you’ll bring down the Ampora name. You can’t go around looking like you can’t afford clothes that fit.”

Eridan pouts, reaching for another slice of toast.

Cronus swats it out of his hand.

“Geez, you’ve had enough, don’t you think? No wonder…”

Mrs Mosby shoots Cronus a glare. He visibly wilts beneath it before excusing himself from the kitchen. She passes Eridan a freshly buttered slice and ruffles his mop of curls.

“You eat up now, okay hun? I love a man with a healthy appetite.”

She winks.

Eridan smiles at the praise and affection, making his way through his fourth slice.

 

“Eridan? What’s wrong lad?” Devon Ampora calls from the other-side of his youngest son’s room. With no response, he takes the unspoken invitation to enter the room.

There is a lump of blankets curled up in the centre of the bed. An iceberg amidst an otherwise calm sea.

Devon knew something was wrong when the bedroom door was closed. His hunch was further supported by the dim interior of the room and the lack of babbling coming from Eridan.

Eridan rarely kept his mouth shut. It was a trait that was both pain-stakingly annoying and endearing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The lump shook.

Devon sat on the edge of the too big bed. It dipped beneath him.

“It’s getting late, do you want to come down, get something to eat? Mosby set aside some dinner for you. She thought you might be hungry later.”

Another shake.

“Are you sure? She made your favourite, just for you.”

The lump hesitates before moving. A head pokes out of the heap of blankets.

Eridan’s eyes are red and puffy.

Devon’s heart breaks, but he does his best to hide it.

“You coming?”

Eridan shakes his head, making a move to dive back into his nest.

Devon intercepts, pulling the now squirming child into his lap.

“I’ve got you now, small fry”

Eridan squeals as his dad attacks his sides with wiggling digits.

“Stop it, Dad, you’re being silly,” Eridan manages between gasps and peals of laughter.

Devon revels in being able to make his baby boy smile and laugh like this. He may not be there for his boys as much as he wished he could be, but at least he can do this.

“This old sea monster here is nothing but silly, young fry,” Devon growls playfully, allowing him-self to fall back on the bed, Eridan on top. He tries not to think about how the weight of his boy presses down on his chest.

“I’m going to gobble you all up, you can’t possible escape.”

Eridan’s face plummets.

The mood shifts.

“What’s wrong? You know you can tell me, right lad?”

Eridan looks up with glistening eyes, head shaking slowly. The frown forming is enough of a cue for Devon.

“I’ll bring your dinner up here if you want? I’ll be back in a minute, alright?”

Eridan has already buried himself in his blankets once more.

Devon looks back sadly before leaving the room.

Cronus meets him on the way to the kitchen.

“He’s fat. The kids find him an easy target. Hard to miss him after all.”

Devon whacks him across the back of his head with his palm.

“You’re his big brother. You should stand up for him.”

Cronus glares at the retreating figure.

“He can fight his own battles. It won’t do him any good to run to me to solve every one of his problems. Plus I don’t want to be seen with the fat kid, least of all have him be associated as my brother!” His voice raising as he went on.

The slamming of a door is heard and Devon feels his age catch up to him.

“Go to your room, Cronus.”

Cronus opens his mouth to protest.

“That order wasn’t open for debate. Go to your room. Now, Cronus!”

Another slam is heard.

Devon heats up the previously set aside meal.

He tries to open the door but the handle rattles with futility.

“Eridan, dinner is outside, alright? Eat it before it gets cold. Night lad.”

He rests his head against the wooden frame. The broken sobs of his baby boy permeating through the mahogany.

He places the tray on the ground.

He had some calls to make.

 

…

 

Fourteen years old. Eridan Ampora looks in the mirror as he does every morning and hates what he sees.

His lips curl up in a sneer of disdain as he takes in the stretch marks that had accumulated upon entering adolescence. He glares accusingly at his doughy stomach that always spilled over the top of his pants. Seizing the rolls, angry tears prickle behind his eyes.

Why him?

Why did he have to be fat?

Why couldn’t he lose it?

He’d tried every diet his dad would let him. He tried sports, even when the other kids gave him a hard time about it. He even tried using some of the equipment in his Dad’s gym. Eridan had tried everything in his power to no visible result.

He steadied the shudder that had developed in his breathing pattern.

Cronus was still as brutally honest as ever. And even though his words burned and haunted him, they meant more to him than what his Dad ever said.

His Dad was too soft, too lenient. He didn’t recognise this for the problem that it was. He tried to help, God, did Eridan know how hard he tried, but trying doesn’t equate to success. Success is what Eridan wanted more than anything else.

Eridan wanted to feel attractive, to have other people look at him and find him visually appealing.

He no longer wanted to be the token fat kid.

He didn’t want to be the whale or Moby Dick.

Nor Lardo, Fatty-Boomba, or Dough-boy.

He wanted to be Eridan Ampora.

He wanted to be thin.

…

 

At sixteen Eridan Ampora had hit what he perceived as rock bottom.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

He shoved his trembling index finger to the back of his throat. His insides violently lurched at this intrusion, but he persisted, growing more and more frustrated by the lack of anything.

By the time his body finally gave up the battle to keep the previously obtained meal down, Eridan’s face was a mess of tear tracks.

The tears stopped as he curled over the porcelain.

Eridan Ampora smiled for the first time in a long time.

Every journey started with a single step after all.

 

…

 

It comes easier now.

Eridan Ampora, seventeen, thinks to himself.

His fingers, worn down and well-rehearsed, have no issue finding the spot that will empty his stomach.

He berated himself for eating as much of that creamy desert as he had. Pure fat. Though Feferi had made it. Made it just for him because she knew it was his favourite. She wanted to reward him. A naughty little treat to celebrate to thirty kilos he’d lost in the past year. Everyone had noticed his transformation. Everyone was happy for him.

He had shed his old label along with his weight. He’d never felt better.

With a final lurch of his everything, he pulled himself up with shaking limbs. Eridan steadied himself using his unsoiled hand and went to freshen up.

He couldn’t afford any back tracking.

He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He had an image to uphold.

With hands now washed and appearance tidied, Eridan left the salvation of the bathroom and went back out to his childhood friend’s bedroom.

“Sorry I took so long Fef, my hair just wouldn’t co-operate.”

She laughed.

“You and your preening. Come on, the shops won’t stay open forever.”

Feferi bounces off of her bed and out of the room.

Eridan follows with weary steps.

 

He wasn’t losing it.

Tears of frustration burning down his face as Eridan looked down at the numbers jeering at him.

Why?

Why?!

He’d been nothing but good. Anything remotely fatty he made sure to bring up within thirty minutes.

This had been working for him for so long.

Why did it stop?!

Eridan scrubbed at his face.

He didn’t come this far only to fail.

No fucking way.

He was Eridan Ampora.

He’ll find a way.

Pep talk over and resolve hardened, Eridan strode out the bathroom and over to his room.

He was going to find a solution.

 

…

 

At nineteen, Eridan Ampora met Vriska Serket.

She was everything he hoped to be.

Confident.

Smart.

Head strong.

A figure to die for.

It was only natural that he’d be drawn to her, moving from the back rows of the lecture theatre to the seat next to her.

It took two weeks for Eridan to work up the courage to initiate conversation with her.

After their first exchange, he berated himself for never trying sooner.

Vriska, the girl who put too much effort in looking dishevelled, was so full of life.

Enthusiastic.

They became a permanent pair in their Introduction to History course.

They became a permanent pair in their breaks.

They became a permanent pair.

Eridan had never been happier.

 

“Believe it or not, I used to be the fat kid in school.” Vriska breaks the silence, head resting on Eridan’s bare chest. He traces a hand along her back, fingers dancing along her spine.

“I used to get so much shit from the other girls. They would say the meanest things like you wouldn’t believe. The worst part was that they’d say it when they thought you couldn’t hear them. It really showed you who your friends were.” Her nails dug into him and he hissed.

The disruption in his breathing alerted Vriska of her action. She pulled herself up and kissed Eridan on the temple as an apology.

“I worked so hard, and boy did it pay off.” She smiles up at him with blue, blue eyes crinkling around the edges.

“If only they could see me now. Little Miss Rolls and her hunk of a boyfriend. I should pop by McDonalds and show you off sometime,” she laughs, eyes flickering with emotions, both joyous and cruel.

Eridan pulls her up with him, arms secured around her waist.

“You showed them Vris, you’re a bombshell, babe.”

His hands rubbed up and down her sides, searching for the stretchmarks he’d failed to notice prior.

He could recommend a treatment to get rid of those forever. Though that would involve bringing his little secret out into the light.

She smirked at his, arms snaking around his neck.

Eridan vowed to himself that he was never going to let this girl go.

 

“Eridan, you OK babe?” Vriska pads into the bathroom, naked except for a pair of underwear. She hurries over to his hunched form, hands moving in circles across the tense planes of his shoulders.

Eridan wondered how she’d heard him. Years of practise had made him a master of discretion when it came to his ritual.

The motion of her hands halted when she took his position in fully.

“Eridan?”

Tears began to spill and Eridan pulled his fingers away from his mouth.

Vriska pulled him into a crushing embrace, away from the edge of porcelain. Her fingers combing through his mused hair as Eridan broke into sobs.

After what seemed like hours, Vriska pulled him up and into the shower. She did her best to show her worship for his body and his hers. They both shook with desperation.

No words were uttered when they turned the water off. Nor when they towelled off or went back to the now cool confines of the bed.

“I love you.” Eridan mumbled into the nape of Vriska’s neck.

Vriska relaxed back into him.

“Love you too,”

 

Eridan woke up one morning to an empty apartment.

What was left in the place was a simple note, spindling blue across clinical white.

                                                                                                      _Eridan,_

_I can’t do this. Not anymore._

_It’s just, too much, I can’t,_

_I can’t help you. God knows I tried, Eridan. I tried and it just breaks me to know that my efforts, as valiant as they were, weren’t enough._

_I’m not enough to help you through this._

_You need proper help._

_You need to recognise that what you have is a problem and stop doing what you’re doing._

_It’s toxic. You’re toxic. Everything became so tedious, so tiring._

_I loved you Eridan but you sucked the life out of me._

_I’m going to be staying with Kanaya. I didn’t tell her the details. Just that things weren’t working out. It’s not lying if there’s some truth to it._

_I don’t want to be the one to bring your dirty little secret to light, I’m not that cruel._

_I trust that you’ll do the right thing. I know you’re smart enough._

_Come speak to me when you get help._

_Please Eridan._

_Vriska_

Eridan balled the note up, tossing it to the far corner of the room.

What did she know anyway?

Couldn’t she see that this is what he wanted, that this is what made him happy?

She was selfish, blind, and ignorant.

He wasn’t sick, and he didn’t need help.

Because he didn’t have a problem.

What he did have was a goal, and with each passing day, each skipped or purged meal, he was closer and closer to it.

She’d regret leaving him when he achieved it.

It was her loss.

 

After Vriska left, Eridan found that most of his friends were hers.

At least he still had Fef. Fef would never leave him.

“Maybe we should just stay in, Eridan. You’re not looking too good.” Her voice is dripping with concern. He drags his fingers through now brittle hair.

“I’m fine Fef, we planned this night weeks ago. There is no way in hell I’m going to pull out.” He pushed himself up and made his way over to the door.

Feferi hovered around nervously.

Eridan let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m fine, just been working overtime on various papers. A night out will do me good, Fef.” His tone was clipped.

“Fine then, sorry for being concerned about my best friend. Remind me not to care,” Feferi snapped back.

They stood in silence before Eridan made a move, his shoulders sloping down. He turned to see Feferi, eyes glassy.

With his arms opened wide, she accepted the silent invitation and dove into him. He stumbled to hold her up, even with her slight weight.

“I’m sorry Fef, I didn’t mean it. I’m just stressed. I’m sorry.” His hands tangled in her long mess of hair.

She sniffled against his chest.   
“I shouldn’t have snapped. I just want to take you out for a proper night out, put Vriska behind you and all that.” Her arms tightened around his torso, squeezing the air out of him. “I just want to see you happy again. I miss your smile Eridan.”

“Shoosh you. Even if I don’t show it, I’m happy Fef. Things are going to look up for me soon, I can feel it.” Eridan pries himself out of her grip, pushing her back at arms-length. He uses a sleeve to wipe away the distress on her cheeks.

“Give me a smile now,” Feferi looks up at him, teary grin on her face. “That’s my girl.” Eridan responds with one of his own.

“Should we go, my lady?” He holds an arm out to her.

She giggles, linking her arm with his.

She ignores the fact that he leans more on her than he leads. Feferi was more than happy to rejoice in the fact that some of his old spark was back.

 

When he looked in the mirror these days, he no longer noticed the state of his hair, his skin, or his yellowing teeth.

All he saw was his ribs and hip-bones, revelling in how visible they were these days.

He’d start his day with slowly pulling himself out of the sinfully comfortable confines of his bed. Once this task was managed, he’d down half a bottle of water and an apple.

This would be followed with a trip to the bathroom where he’d shower, dry his hair, and bring it all back up. Once done there were the scales and finally, the mirror.

His hands traced over his stomach, slightly rounded. Eridan frowned and made a mental note to cut back on the water. What was the point in going this far if he was going to look preggers?

He left his temple of worship and pulled on the clothes he’d laid out the night before. Hands trembling as he slowly buttoned up his shirt.

He took a minute to wait for his head to stop spinning before picking up his satchel and walking out of his apartment. He nodded to his neighbour, a short Hispanic boy who got louder as he became more passionate in his conversations.

“Morning, Kar.”

Karkat slowed down to match Eridan’s stride.

“It’s too early to be conscious. I need something caffeinated, diabetes inducing, or a combination of the both. Wanna join me?” He grumbled.

“Sure thing, I could do with the company.” Eridan smiled.

When they arrived at the campus’ coffee hot-spot Eridan opted to grab a table while Karkat ordered his drink.

Karkat, having caught onto Eridan’s avoidance of certain things, returned to the table with a large, coffee based drink with too much whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles to be considered healthy, and a simple, small, black coffee.

He placed the coffee in-front of Eridan, silencing the other boy’s protests with a glare.

Eridan glared at the hot beverage before picking it up and sipping it.

“You’re the worst, Kar,” Eridan starts.

Karkat smiles smugly.

“Gotta keep you alive, can’t have you wasting away now. If you die, who else is going to watch Rom-coms with me without judgement?”

They both laugh, drinking their respective beverages.

 

…

 

A month away from twenty finds Eridan Ampora sprawled on the ground.

He doesn’t remember how he got here or who the muffled yelling belongs to.

All he knows is that he feels really woozy and that whoever was shaking his shoulders would cease their actions.

 

Eridan wakes up, realising he’s in the campus’ health clinic. This is re-asserted by the familiar ceiling above him.

He feels a hand stroking his own but he can’t muster up the energy to move his head.

It was simply comforting to know that someone was there.

 

Next time he wakes up, he wonders when he dozed off. Eridan is snapped out of his daze by a hesitant voice.  Slowly, he turns his head.

“Fef?” he croaks, his tone caught between pleading and accusatory.

She throws herself onto him. Eridan struggles to move his arms to reciprocate her hold on him.

“Don’t you scare me like that ever again,” her breath hitches. “Can you promise me that, please?”

Eridan nods slowly.

“Sure thing Fef, I guess I forgot to eat, you know how I get when it comes to assignments.” He chuckles.

Feferi looks at him, eyes filled with a mix of hurt and pity.

 

She catches him, mush like Vriska did and Eridan can’t help but die a little on the inside. She’s crying and it’s his fault.

He tries to push himself up but his body doesn’t listen to him.

Seeing him struggle, she bends down and helps hoist him up, breath hitching all the while.

She takes Eridan out to the kitchen and sits him down. She takes the seat next to him and wraps her arm around him. A year or two back she wouldn’t have managed that.

Feferi doesn’t try to rest her head on the pint that is his shoulder. She just sits there and weeps while Eridan stares at the woodwork.

 

They sit across the table from each other. Eridan pays extra attention to the way his clothes hang of him, time to go shopping again. He refuses to acknowledge to plate of food sitting between the two of them.

“Eridan,” Feferi starts, voice barely composed. She was being strong. Strong for him but he didn’t know why.

“Yes?” They both knew what this was about, what was going happen. He hoped that he could buy time before the inevitable outcome, already looking for an escape.

Feferi must have sensed this, clasping her hands around one delicate wrist.

“Eat.” She was straight to the point, resolve hardening her once soft features.

His protests, verbal or not, were doing nothing to weaken it.

She loosened one hand to push the plate, an assortment of fruit and vegetables, towards Eridan’s dilapidated frame.

“Please,” she whimpered. “You promised, remember?”

Her thumb brushed across the protrusions on the back of his hands, dipping between each knuckle.

Eridan tried to protest but something stopped him. His stomach growled and his will crumbled.

Trembling, he moved his free hand, picking up a strawberry.

It tasted like chalk, dirt, failure. Despite this, his nibbles turned in to bites. He got through five before his mind started protesting.

He had been so close.

So close to perfection and he was throwing it aside.

He tried to hide the trembling, but the tears were another matter entirely.

“It’s OK, Eridan. You’re doing well. We’ll get you better, you hear me?” Her voice full of pre-emptive cheer and false hope. “Every journey starts with a single step.”

His was far from over.


End file.
